Compare Thee
by STRiPESandShades
Summary: Wheatley, in all his infinite bumblings and affection accidentally 'creates' the world's most romantic poem. In a thousand monkeys and typewriters kind of way. Chelley! Shakespeare fans rejoice!


**A/N:** Hello there! This is my second Portal 2 fic, and like so many of those before me, it's a Chelley! Yay!  
This one in particular is based off of/is a companion to/is a sequel of sorts to "The Poet" by MoMoneyMoFiction. If you like this one, I highly suggest looking that one up, it's great!

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

It had been a long, hard, _trying_ journey for Chell, for all that her faithful companion seemed undaunted. At last, they seemed to reach a point where the personality core deemed safe, or at the very least into the deepest parts of Aperture where technologies like monitoring cameras and moving panels had yet to catch up.

It was there in the deep, dark bowels of the facility where she tucked herself into one of the tiny alcoves that were littered around the Enrichment Center, most of which were graffitied over with strange equations and odd verses of strangely prophetic poetry.

That is, all except this one.

"Seems like that poet of yours didn't have time to do this one, eh?" Wheatley asked, noting the abnormally blank walls around them. That's when his keen, mechanical eyes picked up on a plain piece of white chalk, tossed inside without a thought. Maybe the mysterious poet intended to write something here long ago, but that seemed all but forgotten now. "Maybe I'll have a go at it myself, I did always want to try a hand at this sort of thing. What you say, luv, I write you something and you can tell me if you think it's good, alright?"

Chell, already half-asleep mutely nodded, her eyes heavy with oncoming slumber.

"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_" he recited as he wrote. "Let's see, summer, summer…," he mused, "Mmm, I don't think so, '_Thou art more lovely and more temperate_," he announced, adding another line.

Chell twitched. Where had she heard this before?

"_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date_," he pressed on

This was beyond bizarre. She reached for him to stop, but the core was on a roll.

"_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;_"

Chell sighed and instead let him continue, watching his perfectly sculpted hands work the poem into possibly the worst handwriting she could remember seeing.

There was a gleam in his eyes she'd never seen before, as if the bright, electric blue was somehow more intense, more intent, more determined than she'd ever seen him.

"_But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st._"

His hand suddenly stopped, "What do you think so far, luv? Ol' Wheatley's turned a decent poet, eh?"

She wanted to ask him if he even knew what he was saying at this point or if he made up half those words on the spot or where even this strangely familiar verse came from. But all of her kept screaming _Robot, he's a robot! Don't say a word if you want to stay alive! _

Instead, she simply gave the smallest of nods and possibly smiled a tiny, pleased smile.

"Good! Now, you'll like this last bit, it's the best bit ever, promise! It's the bit that really makes it you know? Like, without this bit, the whole poem just falls apart, and I just came up with it, all myself! It's a fantastic bit, just you watch!

_So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,_  
_ So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._"

The chalk stopped at the end of that final 'e', as if waiting to see if anything else was to follow. But nothing was, so the hand dropped to Wheatley's side, leaving a faint mark along the wall.

Chell turned to Wheatley. The passionate glow was still in his eyes, but something else rested there, as if he finally realized the weight of his words.

"What d' you think, luv?" he mumbled softly.

She debated again speaking up, _I loved it, thank you_, but again, she kept quiet. Her hand, however, rose of its own accord, the backs of her fingers brushing gently against his plastic cheek as she smiled warmly.

He took her hand in his. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, "We should get moving then, we don't want _her_ to catch up with us, now do we?"

* * *

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
__Thou art more lovely and more temperate.  
__Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
__And summer's lease hath all too short a date._

_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,  
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st._

_So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._

* * *

**A/N:** Ahhh, so romantic~ Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and if you did, feel free to leave a review! Many thanks!_  
_


End file.
